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The Call.
Millie and Richard's weekend doesn't quite turn out as plannned. Based on true life events of one of my family members experiences with a little bit of imagination mixed in. This happened over thirty years ago in real life. Tuesday 10th December 2006 The drizzle coated her skin in small, translucent beads as she fumbled anxiously with the bunch of keys. Millie could hear the cheerful melody of the phone ring inside the house. With two bags of shopping weighing heavily on her arm and three more held in the other hand, she struggled to put the key in the lock. “Come on, come on,” she said shivering. The lock clicked and the door flung open, a blast of warm air greeted her in the hallway. She slipped on the wooden floor, sending tins of spaghetti rolling across the surface. She muttered harshly under her breath and snatched the phone from its holder. “Hello.” she said in her posh phone voice. CLICK. “Hello?” She listened to the line’s empty drone. “Damn!” she muttered. Her fingers swiftly pressed 1471 and the automated voice gave the caller’s number. Instantly recognising it, she rang back. “Hello. The Jolly Rooster. Rosalyn speaking.” “Hi. It’s Millie.” “Oh, hello. I just rang you.” “I know, been shopping, couldn’t get to the phone quick enough, sorry.” Rosalyn laughed. “That’s okay, story of your life.” “Tell me about it. What’s up?” “We wondered if you, Richard and the girls would like to come over this weekend for a couple of drinks?” “That would be music to my ears with the week I’m having,” she sighed heavily. “Great! How are the girls now? Are they over the last batch of tonsillitis?” “Yes, and the bronchitis, thanks. They’re much better now.” “Oh dear, you‘ve had it rough there then! Glad they‘re better. Mum is looking forward to seeing you all. “Aww, bless her. How is she? We’ve not seen her in ages.” “She’s fine, thanks. Still as sprightly as ever and keeping Dewi on his toes,” she giggled. Millie laughed. “Well that’s Olive for you. It will be lovely to see her. Tell here we’re looking forward to it.” “I will. Some of Richard’s cousin’s are coming down too, so we’ll make it a family thing.” “Great, Richard will be pleased. What time to you want us to come over?” “Is Sunday at 2pm okay for you?” “Yeah, that’ll be great. I’ll see you then.” “Okay, love. Right, got to go, got a pub to run. Bye.” “Bye.” The corners of Millie’s mouth turned upwards as she clicked the button. A surge of relief passed through her. At last a day to look forward too. It had been a while since they had gone anywhere, well, at least the four of them together. Gabrielle and Sasha had suffered badly this year, bogged down with one viral infection after the other and other ailments in between. Millie put it down to their immune system being so low; they picked up the least little thing, which would turn into something else. The girls had gone back to school only the middle of last week. It was the first time she had been on her own in the day for over four weeks. After putting all the shopping away, she tidied up a bit, then made herself a strong mug of coffee and sat on the sofa with a book. It felt good to have some space, even for the spare thirty minutes before her calmness swapped itself with chaos, when the girls came home. Millie sighed heavily as the phone began to ring; she put her book facedown to save her page. “Hello,” she said picking up the phone, pressing the button to answer the call. The line didn’t sound good at all, the static hissed loudly, making her a little nervous. She tapped the phone with her hand then listened, still the same interference. “Hello? I’m sorry but the line is bad and I can’t he...” CLICK. The annoying ‘dead’ drone travelled down the phone. “Oh, charming, could have waited until I’d finished.” She dialled 1471. She frowned as the number was read out. “Rosalyn? That’s odd,” she muttered to herself, putting the phone back. Then on retrieving it again, she tapped in Rosalyn’s number and let it ring, but there was no answer. Later that evening after finishing the mundane household chores, she sat observing her daughters playing ‘shops‘. Their cheeks glowed grapefruit pink instead of the drained ash white she had been accustomed to in the last four weeks. Their eyes flickered with hints of mischief and giggles of laughter spilled from their mouths in generous amounts. Their voices were a tonic to hear and their laughter contagious. Wednesday 11th December 2006. “Hi love. Did you have a good night?” said her husband, just back from a night shift. “Yeah, no coughs or sniffles to report,” she said with a broad smile. He looked thoughtfully at her. She still looked tired, the dark rims underneath her eyes still apparent. “Oh, nearly forgot. Rosalyn phoned yesterday.” “What did she want, love?” “She asked if we wanted to go over the pub on Sunday.” “That would be nice, give us a break too and it‘ll be nice to see Rosalyn, Dewi and Olive.” “Yes, that’s what I thought. Rosalyn said some of your cousins are coming down too.” “Fantastic!. We’ll make a day of it,” he said smiling. “Roll on Sunday! I could do with a couple of pints.” “It will make a nice change from these four walls.” He nodded and smiled. Millie seemed brighter and more cheerful today. He knew the thought of a night out had instantly changed her sombre mood. In fact it had altered his dreary thoughts too, to pleasant ones. Thursday 12th December 2006 Millie stood by the sink, her hands submerged in soapy water. Her thoughts wondered to the clothes she could wear on Sunday night. As she picked them out in her mind she was interrupted by the melodic tune of the phone. Hurriedly wiping her hands in the tea-towel she rushed into the lounge. “Hello.” She listened and waited for a response, but there came nothing, only a loud crackling sound. “Hello?” The line crackled and whistled in her ear and she pulled the phone away quickly. She could still hear it in the background as she dangled it in mid air. CLICK. The line went dead. “That’s strange,” she said, shaking her head. She dialled 1471. The girls sat at the table eating their meal. Gabrielle scratched her head with annoyance and Sasha furiously chased peas around her plate with her fork. “Mum, my head is itching,” called Gabrielle. “Eat your dinner and I’ll take a look through your hair when you’ve finished.” She listened to the number, Rosalyn’s. She glanced at the clock on the wall – 7.30. “Okay, but I’m itching a lot,” she said rubbing her scalp with the handle of the fork. “Let me have a look,” she said putting the phone back in its cradle. I’ll ring her later, she told herself. Millie carefully looked through strands of honeycomb-coloured hair. “Well I can’t see anything, Gabby, but I’ll look through it with a nit comb when you’re in the bath.” “Okay, mum. It’s really, really itchy.” Her hands plunged underneath her long locks at the base of her neck and her fingers scratched at the skin beneath. “Try not to scratch it too much, love.” Twenty minutes later, Millie combed Gabrielle’s wet hair. “Nothing there, love. No head lice lurking in your mop nor your sister‘s.” “But my head is still itchy.” “Definitely nothing there, Gabby, I’ve checked twice. It‘s probably a heat rash.” “Well I wish I’d stop itching, it’s annoying.” “I know, love. You’ll feel better in the morning, you wait and see,” she said gently brushing blonde wisps of hair out of her face. She smiled and kissed her on the nose. Gabrielle smiled back. “Come on you two, it’s time for bed.” Friday 13th December 2006 “M-u-m,” called Gabrielle from upstairs. Millie recognised the tone, it‘s the one she usually used when she wanted something, as all kids do. “What’s wrong?” “I’m still itchy and I’ve got a few spots on me…” “…and I have mum, come and have a look,” shouted Sasha, sounding quite pleased. Millie could hear alarm bells ringing inside her head; she didn’t like the sound of this, one little bit. “Look mum,” Sasha said pulling up her pyjama trousers. Millie looked at her daughter’s leg and let out a quiet groan. There were a few spots dotted on the inside of her leg and a couple spreading towards her knee. “Have you got any more?” “Yes, there are a few on my arms.” Millie looked and felt sick inside. Large, blister type spots scattered over her arm. It could only mean one thing. “Me too,” interrupted Gabrielle. After checking both girls over she rang the surgery and made an emergency appointment. Millie’s thoughts had been confirmed by the doctor, she couldn’t believe the girls were ill again. She felt disappointed, but knew it couldn’t be helped, though after the last few weeks, she now felt like crying. After settling the girls into bed and taking a drink and some sandwiches up to them, she glanced at the phone, hesitated briefly, picked it up and dialled the number. Richard sat on the sofa. He didn’t look amused. “Hello. The Jolly Rooster. Rosalyn speaking,” she said shakily. “Hello Rosalyn, its Millie. I rang to say I’m sorry, but we can’t make it on Sunday, Gabrielle and Sasha have chickenpox.” “Ahh, right I see. I’m afraid I have some bad news.” “Why, what’s wrong?” “Dewi’s Mum passed away last night, seems she died in her sleep, poor love. “Oh I’m so sorry to hear that. Please give Dewi our love and condolences.” Millie put her hand over the ear piece and whispered. “Richard, Olive died last night, in her sleep.” “Oh no, poor Olive, bless her. Such a lovely woman.” Millie nodded, took her hand off the phone and listened to Rosalyn. “Is there anything we can do?” “No, love, not really.” “Do you want us to tell some of the family?” “Yes, please, if you don’t mind. We have a lot of family to tell.” “I know, love,” Millie said sympathetically. “We’ll let them know for you.” “Thank you.” “Does Dewi want to speak to Richard?” “Yes, I think so, Millie, thanks love. Hope the girls get better soon.” “Thank you, take care and I’ll be in touch in a couple of days. Bye love.” “Bye.” Millie gestured to Richard. “Dewi wants to talk to you.” She passed him the phone and began to walk toward the kitchen. “Hello, Dewi. I’m sorry to hear of Olive’s passing...” His voice trailed away as she tried to come to terms with the sad news. Tears slid down her cheeks and dropped onto the work surface. Sunday 15th December. They stood outside the pub both teary eyed and hesitant. Richard knocked on the door and Millie glanced up toward the window that belonged to Olive’s bedroom. Slow footsteps could be heard on the tiled floor inside. Rosalyn answered the door, her eyes moist. Black mascara smudged below her bottom lashes. “Millie, Richard!” “Hello Rosalyn. How you bearing up, love?” Millie asked, reaching out to hug her. “What do you mean,” she sniffed, hugging her back. “Well, you know, about Olive’s passing.” Rosalyn’s mouth dropped open and she stared at them both as if in a daze. “H-how do you know?” she gasped. Millie threw a puzzled look at Richard, and then looked back to Rosalyn, who now looked equally as confused as them both. “I rang to tell you we couldn’t make it on Sunday because Sasha and Gabby have chickenpox. You told me on the phone that Olive had passed away the night before.” “I couldn’t have,” she paused and sucked in a large gulp of air. “Olive only passed away an hour ago.” Millie and Richard both stood there in shock. It took a few seconds before either of them could speak. “B-but, you told me on the phone on Friday!” “We had a conversation, yes, but Olive was still alive, so I couldn’t have told you she had died. How could I?” “I spoke to Dewi too and he confirmed it to me also. I heard him,” said Richard. Rosalyn shook her head. “There must be some mistake. It’s impossible, he couldn’t have...” Millie interrupted. “We have told all the family too.” Her voice became strained and high pitched. “You told me she had died in her sleep.” Rosalyn stepped back in surprise. “How the hell did you know that?” “Because you told me on the phone,” Millie insisted. “This is very odd, indeed. She did die in her sleep, but I didn’t tell you on the phone. She only died an hour ago.”